


Buried Alive

by AngieInStL



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-20
Updated: 2011-12-20
Packaged: 2017-10-27 15:13:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/297205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngieInStL/pseuds/AngieInStL
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Driving home from a visit with Naomi, Blair's car is swept off of the road by a mudslide.  Will his Sentinel find him in time?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Buried Alive

Buried Alive

 

Jim shoved the papers into the file and tossed it on the stack in the basket on the corner of his desk. He glanced over toward where his lover usually sat and tried to shake off the uneasiness that had been building all afternoon. Blair had left that morning to meet with Naomi at some retreat outside of Seattle. She was only going to be there for the afternoon and had called to say that she wanted to see him. Since he didn’t have any classes at the University that day, he had gassed up his car and left at first light.

“Hey Jim, when is Sandburg going to be back?” Simon asked from where he was standing in the doorway to his office.

“Should be back some time tonight unless something comes up and he decides to stay overnight. Why do you ask?”

“I was going over one of his reports and I think I’m missing a page of the narrative,” the captain replied. “Oh well, it can wait. Where is Naomi off to next?”

Leaning back in his chair, Jim smiled, “She said she was off to some island in the Caribbean. She’s going to attend a retreat on transcendental meditation or some kind of nonsense. She said that her karmic energy is out of flux or sync or … hell, I don’t even know what she was prattling about.”

“Too bad she couldn’t visit for a few days,” Banks teased.

“Yeah, like I need that again,” Jim said, his voice heavily laced with sarcasm. “Every time she stops in I spend the next three days sneezing.”

“You want to hang out this evening? Maybe catch the game on the tube?”

“Sure, you bring the pizza and wings, I’ll supply the beer and pretzels,” Ellison offered.

“How come I have to buy supper?” Simon protested.

“My place, my beer, my TV,” came the reply.

“Yeah, yeah, rub it in. It isn’t my fault that the tree fell over and knocked out the cable to the whole block.”

It had been the torrential rains that seemed stalled over Cascade that loosened the mammoth evergreen tree’s hold on the earth and sent it toppling into Simon’s back yard, tearing down all of the cable lines. The cable company said that they had outages all over town and would get to it when they could. With the Jags winning season coming to an end, no true fan wanted to miss a single second.

Word quickly spread and a few of the other detectives invited themselves, offering to bring all of the Sandburg-forbidden foods and make a night of it. Jim mentally reviewed the amount of beer he had on hand and scheduled a stop at the market on his way home.

***

Blair smoothed out the material of the new shirt Naomi had given him with a smile. She said that the design was from one of her spiritual advisors and that she immediately thought of him when she held it in her hands. Mother and son had spent the afternoon with the others at the retreat in meditation. Feeling relaxed and recharged, he was looking forward to the drive home. He had gotten a new book on tape and was planning to listen to it all the way back to Cascade.

“I do wish I could persuade you to join me on this trip,” Naomi said, rehashing their earlier discussion. “It would do you some good to get back in touch with your spiritual side.”

“I already explained to you why I can’t. The professor is depending on me to keep the class up to speed while he’s recovering. He had open-heart surgery, he doesn’t need to be worrying about whether or not his students are doing their work. Besides, Jim has been really busy with all the hubbub about the Economic Conference coming to town. The Commissioner has every available officer on the detail to keep the protesters from disrupting the meetings,” Blair replied. He didn’t bother adding that he was anxious to get home to his lover.

“Oh, what a lot of nonsense! If they can’t handle a few protestors they deserve to be disrupted!” his mother swore. “There was a time when you and I would be right there in the thick of things, waving signs and shouting slogans. Remember that time we almost got arrested protesting in the-”

“I remember, Mom. But I can’t do that anymore. I have to be responsible now, I have my teaching and helping Jim-”

“I’ve heard all of your excuses,” she replied.

“I don’t want us to part with this negative energy between us,” Blair said, knowing that his mother would immediately want to make things better between them before she left.

“I hear you,” she said. “And I’m trying to understand.”

With a smile, Blair embraced his mother. “I know. I appreciate that. Now, you’ll call when you get there? Let me know that you made it alright?”

“I’ll call,” Naomi answered. “And you drive carefully.”

“I will,” Blair replied. It was still raining and there was the occasional rumble of thunder echoing through the valley. He tossed his bag on the front seat and turned to accept a hug from his mother. Someone honked a car horn and Naomi quickly turned to wave at the driver.

“That’s my ride to the airport. I have to go. I love you,” she said before turning in a swirl of colorful, gauzy material and hurrying away. Blair watched as she got in the other vehicle before sliding behind the wheel of his car and reaching for the ignition.

***

Jim balanced the bag of groceries on his hip while he fumbled with the key to the door. He had just enough time to put everything away and grab a shower before the others started arriving. His stomach was already rumbling at the thought of greasy barbequed ribs and a deluxe pizza with extra cheese. A pang of guilt flared as he hung his jacket next to the empty hook where Blair’s would normally be.

“I’ll just put in another hour at the gym to work it off,” he said out loud to himself. The justification sounded hollow and he could almost feel how disappointed his lover would be when he found out about the binge.

Simon bumped into Rafe on the sidewalk and the two men talked about the Jags chances in the game that night. Jim met them at the door, his nose already detecting the tangy sauce on the wings. He took some of the take-out cartons from Simon’s hands and carried them to the kitchen counter, where he immediately opened the lids and inhaled in delight.

“You’re sure that Sandburg won’t be home before the game is over?” Banks asked.

“Positive. He left a message on the machine that he won’t be in until closer to midnight. He’s taking it easy because of the rain,” Jim replied. He opened the refrigerator and grabbed three beers. “He’s got some book on tape and he sounded very … calm.”

“Sandburg calm? That’s something I’d pay good money to see,” the captain teased.

Any retort Jim might have made was superseded by the arrival of the rest of the guys. The kitchen counter and a fair part of the table were covered in various cardboard containers from fast food restaurants. Paper plates and stacks of napkins were passed around as each man indulged in his favorite comfort food. If anyone noticed that Jim took only a small portion of the greasy ribs and a few wings to go with one slice of pizza, they didn’t say anything.

The game was fast paced and the score too close to predict a winner until seconds before the final buzzer. The members of Major Crimes had slowly devoured the assortment of food in the kitchen, washing it down with cold beer. None of them drank too much, just two or three bottles over the course of the evening. Simon slipped out on the balcony during the half-time break to grab a few puffs on a cigar. He didn’t stay out long because the wind was driving the rain against that side of the building and he was getting wet.

With the Jags victory, the apartment rang with raucous cheering. Jim began to clean up during the post-game wrap up, rinsing the beer bottles and setting them in the drainer. He carefully flattened the various cartons and boxes, packing them into a trash bag that he was going to take out right away. While he enjoyed the food, the smells from all of the refuse would interfere with his getting a good night’s sleep. It would also give him some protection when his lover got home. Blair had called to check up on him during the game. The Sentinel’s face warmed at how quickly his Guide had figured out that he was having ‘heart attack in a box’ for supper and chastised him for the duration of a commercial break. The guilty expressions on his coworker’s faces had been almost comical, as they looked down at the pile of plates on the coffee table. But Blair ended the call by promising Jim that he would ‘have his ass’ when he got home, making Ellison’s blood rush south and causing him to turn his back on the others. Blair was making good time and expected to be home by midnight, just as he’d said on his earlier message.

Alone in the apartment after his friends had gone, Jim stood by the balcony doors and looked out over the city. The uneasy feeling he had been having that afternoon was back, accompanied by rolling thunder and flashes of lightening in the sky. He was tempted to call Blair, to suggest that he find a place to stop for the night but he brushed it aside as too overly protective of the younger man. Besides, it was after eleven and Sandburg would be too near to Cascade to want to stop for the night. He knew that his Guide would want to be there, with his Sentinel, and if the truth were to be known, Jim wanted him there. He felt a keening urge to reconnect with the young Shaman. Without realizing it, the Sentinel of the Great City was growling softly in the back of his throat.

***

The windshield wipers provided him with a glimpse of the road ahead with each pass but Blair still slowed the car until he was only coasting along the gently curving highway. He was sorely tempted to pull over to the shoulder and wait out the storm but a pressing urge to get back home, back to his Sentinel, kept him moving. Besides, he knew it wasn’t safe to pull over on a winding road; he would have to get off the highway if he was going to stop for any length of time.

Blair had shut off the book on tape; it was too distracting for him. All of the calm, peaceful feelings he’d had that afternoon were washed away by the constant tension of the demanding drive. Another roll of thunder and a flash of lightening lit up the sky, Blair had only seconds to process what he was seeing ahead of him. It looked like a large, shapeless animal crossing the road. Recognition slammed into him at the same instant as the mudslide. There was nothing he could do but hang on and pray.

At first, the slide pushed the car up against the rail. Blair was relieved … but his relief was short lived. A tide of mud flowing under the vehicle lifted it and, with a groan of metal on metal, the car slowly went over the guard rail. Blair had only an instant to see the deep ravine in the beams of the headlights before the car rolled. Something heavy struck his side and he belatedly realized that it was his bag. The seconds that followed were a jumble before his head struck the window hard enough to render him unconscious.

The car came to rest on its roof at the bottom of the ravine. The massive mud slide buried it so completely that no one would guess that there was a vehicle there. Thunder and lightening continued for several minutes before the storm shifted to the east. The pouring rain slowed to a gentle mist before stopping completely, leaving behind only the wet sucking sound of the mud as it continued to flow down the side of the hill.

***

Jim jerked awake and looked around in confusion. Blair hadn’t gotten home at midnight and Ellison hadn’t been able to relax enough to sleep, or so he thought. Glancing at his watch, he saw that it was now past four in the morning. His sensitive ears told him that the storm was over and the rain had stopped. Rising from where he’d fallen asleep on the couch, he crossed to the balcony doors and looked out. His heart was beating hard and fast within his chest and he felt the urge to pace. Jim grabbed the phone from the table and hit the speed dial for Blair’s cell phone. The phone rang until it rolled into voicemail. The uneasiness from earlier morphed into full-fledged anxiety.

“Damn it, Chief, where are you?” he wondered aloud.

***

Pain brought Blair to consciousness. He was upside-down, suspended by his seatbelt. His arms hung limply from his shoulders. When he tried to raise his hand to release the restraint, pain wrapped around his ribs and he gasped in pain.

“This is so not good,” he mumbled to himself. The faint lights from the dashboard allowed him to see. The darkness beyond the windshield and side window made him shudder. “Okay, have to get out of this seatbelt and find my phone,” he said. Having a plan gave him the courage to face the pain of moving his injured arm again. When the seatbelt release clicked, he tumbled to the roof, his left leg tangling with the steering wheel and causing more pain. “Oh God!” he cried as his various injuries made themselves known. His fist beat against the roof as he rode out the waves of agony.

Some minutes later, Blair had calmed himself enough to begin searching for his phone. He had put it on the passenger side seat when he finished talking to Jim. Groping along with his left hand, he searched among the clutter littering the roof area.

“I really needed to clean out my car,” he mumbled. A mirthless chuckle then broke from his throat as he realized that the car was probably totaled. Over the sound of his own breathing, Blair heard muffled rumbling and the groan and pop of the quarter-panels as they were overstressed by the mud. This was so much worse than being stuck in the elevator because he was alone … and it was dark. His hand brushed over the familiar shape of his phone and he pulled it closer. The LED lit up, giving him hope of calling for help until he saw the ‘No Signal’ message.

***

“-leave a message and I’ll call you right back. Thanks!” Jim sighed at getting Blair’s voicemail yet again. He had been pacing the length of the loft for almost an hour. He had managed to refrain from calling Captain Banks, no sense in disturbing his rest until absolutely necessary, and was anxiously struggling not to extend his hearing to search for the familiar heartbeat. It was one thing when they were testing his abilities, Blair could get to him quickly if he zoned, but all by himself he dared not even try.

The phone rang several minutes later and Jim nearly tripped over his feet getting there to answer it. “Sandburg, where in the hell are you?” he growled.

“Jim, it’s Simon. I gather the kid didn’t make it home last night.”

Sighing deeply, Ellison’s fingers tightened on the cordless phone until the plastic case creaked under his grip. He dragged the fingers of his other hand over the crown of his head, feeling the beginning of a major migraine building behind his eyes. “No, he didn’t and I’m starting to get worried,” Jim replied.

“I gather you haven’t seen the news reports, then,” Simon countered.

“News? No, I haven’t,” Jim said, moving to pick up the remote and turn on the TV. Instantly, the screen was filled with a monstrous swath of mud as viewed from the spot light of a news chopper. “Oh my God,” he breathed, sinking to the couch as the remote slipped from his fingers.

“Ellison! Jim! Don’t zone out on me. We don’t know that he was there when it happened. He may have been detoured around the slide area and doesn’t have a cell signal.”

***

After discovering that his cell phone was useless, Blair tried to take stock of the situation. He knew that Jim would be looking for him, was probably already pacing the floor. Finding his bag near the back window, he pulled it closer and checked the pockets. It was good, he had several energy bars, some granola and a full bottle of water. He shuddered as another eerie groan sounded from the car. His breathing came faster and he clutched at the familiar weight of the bag.

“I’ll be alright. Jim will find me. I just have to stay calm,” he said to himself. “Stay calm,” he repeated. Remembering the meditation tape he had in the Walkman, he dug in the bag until he found it. Moving awkwardly in the confining space, he managed to get into a lotus position and slipped the headphones over his ears. It took several minutes for his heartbeat to slow to a normal rhythm and his breaths were still somewhat shaky but Blair managed to slip into a light, meditative state.

***

Jim was showered and pacing again by the time Simon pulled up in front of the loft. He grabbed his coat from the hook beside the door and rushed down the stairs. It was still a half hour until sunrise but the sky was no longer inky black. He had been prepared to drive to the slide site by himself but the captain insisted, no, ordered, him to wait for a ride. Ellison opened the door and flung himself into the passenger side seat.

“They’ve already dispatched the National Guard to the slide area. As soon as possible, they’re going to get a chopper up over the site. They’ve got instruments that will be able to tell if there are any vehicles under the mud,” Simon explained as he pulled away from the curb. “Have you eaten?”

“Not hungry,” Jim replied tensely.

“We’ll stop and pick something up.”

“I don’t want to stop and pick something up! I need to get to Blair!”

The captain’s eyebrows rose slightly at the angry, commanding tone of voice. “And I need you at your best if there are people trapped under that slide. You need to eat something to keep up your strength. Blair wouldn’t want you to go without food,” Simon prompted.

That was another thing to worry about. When was the last time his Guide ate? Did he have food and water in the car? Jim had already tormented himself with the idea that Sandburg was in a small, dark space. He shifted in the seat, rearranged the seatbelt against his shoulder, moved his feet against the floorboard and finally folded his arms across his chest. His jaw was already throbbing from the way he had clenched his teeth thinking about his lover.

Glancing across the car, Simon took note of the tense, anxious behavior of his best detective. Jim Ellison may have come across as a cold, unfeeling bastard but the captain knew that it was just a cover for the deep, abiding concern he had for Sandburg. The young anthropologist had swept into Ellison’s life like a spring breeze and cleaned out all of the dark, dusty places where Jim kept his emotions hidden. Simon knew that there was something more between the two men, something he couldn’t begin to understand. Blair had explained it but it still sounded like mumbo-jumbo or science fiction.

After a brief stop at a drive-thru for coffee and breakfast, Simon headed for the highway. He kept watching Ellison, who took only a sip of his coffee and was staring blankly out the windshield. Reaching across the seat, Banks took hold of the other man’s shoulder. “Don’t zone out on me, Jim,” he warned.

“I’m not,” the Sentinel replied.

“Then eat,” Banks commanded. He watched out of the corner of his eye as Jim unwrapped the still-warm sandwich and took a bite.

Jim ate but the food tasted like cardboard. His sense of smell kept throwing little spikes and the scent of Simon’s aftershave was like having a white-hot poker in his sinuses. He was struggling to control his runaway senses but his anxiety was pushing that control farther and farther away. The sun’s reflection off of an oncoming vehicle made him wince and grope in his pocket for the sunglasses he always carried.

***

The meditation tape began to drag and Blair opened his eyes. His hand automatically went to shut off the Walkman. The oppressive silence quickly cut through the calm he’d managed to find. He looked at his watch and saw that several hours had passed. Taking a deeper breath, Blair felt his ribs starting to throb again. Groping along beside his knee, he found the cell phone again. He knew it was ridiculous to think that there would be a signal now, unless someone had set up a new cell tower while he was meditating, but he had to try.

At first, he thought it was his imagination. He thought it was getting darker. Ruthlessly tamping down his panic, Blair scooted closer to the dash. It hurt, but he stretched his arm up to the brightness control for the dashboard instrument panel and turned it up. He was rewarded with a marginal increase in the amount of light.

“Okay, okay, just gotta remain calm,” Blair whispered aloud. When he started to move away from the dash, there was another groan from the over-stressed metal. Shuddering, Blair froze in place. When the noise finally stopped, he cautiously shifted his weight and drew his knees to his chest. He had always been sensitive to the cold and being afraid didn’t help. While having his body in a nearly-fetal position was warmer, it made the ache in his ribs so bad that he had to move. Slowly, tenuously, he turned and lay on his side with his head pillowed on his bag. He tucked his hands between his thighs and closed his eyes.

***

Simon used his badge to get past the roadblock. A state trooper motioned for them to park on the shoulder and told them that they would have to walk from there. Jim swiftly exited the car, staring at something just past the trooper’s shoulder. Pacing along the guard rail was a black panther that only he could see. While he watched, the big cat jumped over the rail and, in great leaping strides, moved down to the bottom of the ravine where it turned and looked back at him.

“Jim!” Simon shouted, taking hold of Ellison’s arm to stop him from climbing over the rail.

“He’s down there,” the Sentinel said without taking his eyes off of his spirit guide.

“You’re certain?”

“He’s down there … buried alive,” Jim replied, the last coming out in a choked whisper.

After forcing Ellison to sit on the rail and making him promise to stay there, the captain went in search of the person in charge. He was directed toward a large black vehicle parked right at the edge of the slide area.

“I’m Captain Banks, Cascade PD. What can you tell me? How many cars are under there?” he asked after showing his ID to the man seated at the desk in the van.

“We haven’t confirmed that there are any cars under there as of yet. I’m still waiting on the chopper with the thermal scanner. What makes you think there are cars down there?” the man asked, eyeing the other man suspiciously.

“I know … I have reason to believe that a car driven by Blair Sandburg is at the under the slide,” Simon answered.

“But you don’t know for sure,” the man countered.

Before Simon could respond, the sound of a helicopter had all of them looking skyward. The chopper flew back and forth along the landslide. Suddenly, the radio inside the van crackled and came to life.

“Rescue Nine to Base, confirm at least one vehicle at the bottom of the ravine. One survivor. Repeat, one life sign at the bottom of the slide area,” the disembodied voice related.

“Roger that, Rescue Nine. Return to base,” the man said into the mic he had snatched from the desktop. He glanced up as the chopper circled once, then took off toward the city. Switching the radio frequency, he immediately began ordering heavy equipment. When he confirmed the arrangements, he turned to the black man who was still waiting at the door.

“How soon will you have him out?” Simon asked.

“It’s going to be a while. The car is at the bottom of the ravine. We can’t get in there with heavy equipment from the top side so they’re going to try to bring it up from the service road at the bottom. Because it’s mud and not rocks, we’ll have to shore everything very carefully. I wish I could be more optimistic but you’ve got a hell of a long wait ahead of you and the chances of bringing anyone out of there alive aren’t the best.”

Glancing over his shoulder at the massive amount of displaced dirt, Simon could only nod his head and walk back to where he had left Ellison.

Hours passed in agonizingly slow fashion as the equipment was brought up from the service road. Luckily, the vegetation was sparse and the massive excavator was able to move into position with little difficulty. Another big truck was situated on the road above the slide and was using a massive wench to pull the heavy steel shoring pieces up closer to the excavation site. The entire site was dotted with men in bright orange vests, who were using hand-held thermal imagers to try to pinpoint the buried vehicle.

“Drink this,” Simon ordered, pushing a bottle of water into Jim’s hand. He had been staying close to Ellison, suspecting that if he didn’t that the detective would slip over the rail and start digging with his bare hands.

The panther was pacing across the mud, growling and flicking his tail in agitation, a visual representation of the emotions the Sentinel was feeling at the moment. Jim swallowed a mouth full of the water to appease his superior but his attention was focused solidly on the spot where his spirit animal paced.

***

Another series of groans and the popping of metal woke Blair. He opened his eyes to absolute darkness. Raising one hand to his face, he made sure his eyes were open before the panic washed over him.

“Oh God! Jim! Where are you?” Blair screamed. He shifted to his hands and knees and began to crawl around in the confining space, shouting for his Sentinel. When his head bumped into the steering wheel, his hand came down in a puddle of something cold and wet. “No! No!” Blair shouted as he groped blindly along the dash. He found the vent that the mud was coming through and pounded on it with his fists. “Stay out! Stay out! JIM!”

***

The Sentinel had been keeping his hearing extended toward the slide all morning when he heard his name. Jim gasped, coming to his feet and swinging one leg over the rail.

“Oh no you don’t,” Simon shouted, rushing to grab the detective by the arm. “What do you think you’re doing, Jim?”

“I can hear him! He’s terrified!” Jim answered. “I’ve got to get to him!”

“You can’t go down there. The rescue unit is trying to get him out. You’ll just have to wait,” Banks said. He was unprepared for the sudden, seizure-like jolt that shook the other man. Jim’s head turned toward the ravine as his entire body went rigid. Seconds later, Simon had his hands full as Ellison collapsed.

***

Terrified and unable to see anything, Blair retreated from the dash, dragging his bag and moving closer to the back window. He was shaking, his breath coming in shuddering gasps as he wrapped his arms around the bag and began to rock it like an unsettled baby. His panicked breathing reduced the oxygen in his bloodstream until he passed out, slowly leaning over until his shoulder touched the top of the back seat.

***

The paramedic had snapped the ammonia capsule before Simon even realized what it was. As soon as Jim drew a breath, he flinched, raising both hands defensively and knocking the man away from his side. The other paramedic tried to restrain him and Jim threw up all over him for his effort. Simon had to look away as his friend rolled off of the stretcher, landed on his knees and suffered through dry heaves for several minutes.

Sinking back on his heels shakily, Jim drew a deeper breath and blew it out carefully. Every time he opened his eyes, it was like someone was shining a search light into his face and he kept them clenched tightly shut.

“Detective Ellison, is something else wrong?” the paramedic asked.

“What … was … that?” Jim managed between clenched teeth.

“A standard ammonia capsule. I’m sorry, Detective, I’ve never seen anyone have that kind of a reaction to it before.” A bottle of water was pressed against his clenched fist. “You might want to rinse your mouth,” the paramedic said apologetically.

Jim accepted the water and unscrewed the cap without opening his eyes. He took a sip and swished it around in his mouth before spitting it out and taking another mouth full. He spit that out too and then took a cautious swallow. His head was absolutely splitting and he knew that he would likely pass out if he opened his eyes again.

“Simon?” Jim called, turning his head and listening for Banks to reply.

“Right here,” the captain said, his voice barely a whisper. “Can you open your eyes?”

“Can’t. Where are my shades?”

“Here,” Simon answered, extending them carefully under the seeking hand. “What can I do?”

“Get Sandburg out of there?” Jim replied. It took him several minutes to dial his senses back enough to be able to open his eyes. Simon supported his dazed steps back to his former post on the guard rail. The pounding in his head was so bad that he felt sick but the Sentinel continued to sit there, staring down at the pacing cat that no one else could see.

***

“Cold … so cold,” Blair whispered, groping for his blanket and his lover while wondering if the furnace had gone out or something. When his hand encountered only the cold glass, he remembered. Waves of hard shudders wracked his body and irritated his already bruised ribs.

Remembering the suitcase of clothes in the trunk, Blair sat up and reached blindly for the back seat. He pulled on it and felt along the back dash area for any way to release it so he could access the trunk. Frustration mounted as his hands slipped off of the seat yet again. In a fit of rare pique, he turned around and began to kick at it. The activity warmed him while it also burned precious energy. Finally, something popped and the seatback fell, hanging crookedly from the one corner.

Blair groped past the spare tire, cursing when he wracked his knuckles on the jack, until he found the battered canvas duffle bag he had his clothes in. The bottom corner of the bag was wet and Blair hoped that some of the clothes were dry. He fumbled in the dark until he got the bag open and began pulling the things out. When he reached the damp clothes, he stopped, not wanting to put on anything that would make him colder. By touch, he separated the pieces. He was trembling when he eased out of his jacket and long-sleeved flannel shirt but he quickly pulled on three tee shirts and the sweatshirt that he had set aside. His jacket felt tight when he added it but he felt marginally warmer. He found two pairs of socks folded together and he put them on his hands. The rest of the dry things were spread out across his thighs. He was as warm as he was going to get in his cold, dark prison.

“Jim, if you can hear me, hurry up because I’m not sure how much longer I can take this,” he mumbled past chattering teeth. He pushed the seat back upright and leaned against it before pulling his bag into his lap and breaking out an energy bar. He had taken only three or four bites when he drifted off to sleep.

***

The rest of Major Crimes turned up near the end of their shift. The evening shift had come in early so that the worried detectives could leave before rush-hour traffic congested the roads out of Cascade. They congregated in solidarity around Jim and Simon, who was still standing watch over Ellison. Connor had suggested that they stop and pick up food, knowing that neither Jim nor Simon would have left the site to get anything.

Simon briefed the others, telling them as much as he knew, which wasn’t much. Someone pressed a sandwich into Jim’s hand and he took a bite, his blue eyes never leaving the spot where he knew Blair’s car rested in the ravine. The panther had gone some time earlier after glaring up at the Sentinel, silently berating him for not helping his Guide.

“Sandy’s going to be alright, you’ll see,” Megan said. She was a little unnerved by the almost-unblinking gaze directed toward the rescue project going on below.

Jim shuddered and Rafe shook out a blanket that one of the paramedics had draped over the guard rail earlier in the day. The temperature was dropping and the wind was picking up, wicking away whatever heat a body managed to generate. Rafe placed the blanket around Ellison’s shoulders and it would have slipped off if he lifted his hands for all the attention the other man paid it.

The excavator had cleared a path and set the shoring pieces in place that brought them closer to the submerged car. They had to build them up three high to get deep enough to try to dig out the car. It was a wet and slippery project. The men working on setting the shoring were cold and tired. The cab of the excavator had heat, which was the only thing keeping the project moving. The thermal imaging scans still showed one body, but the glow was starting to fade as the trapped man fell victim to hypothermia.

As the sun was setting, Jim suddenly sat up straighter and stared down at the excavated path. Before any of his coworkers could stop him, the tall, muscular detective had slipped over the rail and was sliding down the hill. The blanket fluttered to the ground and was forgotten.

“Hey! You shouldn’t be down here!” a man in an orange vest shouted.

“You have to get him out now, it’s going to shift!” Jim yelled as he climbed up on the tracks of the excavator and opened the door. “Get as close to the car as you can and pull the mud away, we have to get him out of there now!” he shouted at the startled operator.

“They haven’t got the shoring ready yet!” the man protested.

“I don’t care! That whole damned hill is coming down soon, you have to get to the car!” Jim said, casting worried glances up to where the rest of his coworkers and several other emergency workers were still looking down. “Do it now!” he ordered. The operator hesitated only until Jim leaned closer. Something in the intense look on Ellison’s face persuaded him and he replaced his hands on the controls.

Jim jumped down off of the tracks and rushed into the shoring tunnel. He ran to the end and began to climb up the pieces until he was sitting on the uppermost edge. The huge, toothed bucket was extended and lowered, scooping up a full load of the wet, sticky mud. It rose slowly, making a sucking noise as it pulled away. The bucket swung a few feet to the down side of the slide and dumped its load. On the next scoop, Jim caught a glimpse of something other than mud. His heart was in his throat as he screamed at one of the men below him in the shoring tunnel.

“Give me your radio!” Jim ordered. The man quickly tossed the requested item into the air. “Swing the bucket back here and let me on it before you put it down again,” he said, looking at the man in the cab of the excavator.

Standing on the top of the muddy, slippery bucket, Jim balanced precariously while studying the hole as he descended. He extended his hearing, mentally dismissing the machine noise until he heard the sound he was seeking. Blair’s heart rate was slow and steady, as if in deep sleep but his breathing sounded labored. A deep rumble snapped his attention back to the situation at hand.

“Move it forward! Forward!” he ordered. “That’s good! Now, do it!” The bucket cut into the mud and Jim caught sight of the car. He leapt off of the bucket, sinking up to his ankles in the thick, wet earth. Going to his knees, he wiped the mud off of the glass and aimed the beam from his flashlight into the car. He heard Blair’s heart falter and attacked the window with the rock that conveniently found its way into his hand. The glass shattered and he pulled it out before wiggling his upper body through the frame. He grabbed hold of his lover and began pulling him closer.

Nick Montross swung the bucket back and his team quickly attached a shoring piece to it with thick, heavy chains. Mark Tucker climbed up on the bucket and Nick raised the excavator’s arm, moving it slowly so as not to cause the shoring tunnel to swing. When he looked down, Mark saw that the stranger who had come sliding down the hill was pulling someone out of the car. He signaled for the bucket to be lowered as he climbed down onto the bracing. When he could, he leapt down to guide the heavy steel form into position so as not to crush either of the men beside the buried vehicle.

Jim dragged Blair out of the car, carefully supporting his head and neck. He was hardly aware of the other man or of the thick steel walls that came down around him. Blair was barely breathing and the Sentinel’s vision picked up the faint blue tint to the Guide’s lips. Jim roughly massaged Sandburg’s ribs until the younger man gasped and drew a deeper breath. Blair began coughing and Jim pulled him to a sitting position before scooping him up in a fireman’s carry. Mark saw the backpack that had been pulled out with the trapped man and grabbed it before turning to follow the men out of the tunnel.

Hearing his panther yowl in warning, Jim picked up the pace. Blair was still coughing but he didn’t have time to stop to check on him. “Go! Go! GO!” he yelled at the men in front of him, who were coming to help. An ominous rumbling noise filled the air and a sense of urgency caused the men to run. Once outside of the tunnels, Jim kept moving. When the rumbling turned into vibrations along the ground, he was several yards away and still running. He heard the frantic cries of the other men as a mountain of mud came tumbling down from the hill above. Jim spared a moment to listen for his other friends, hearing their excited voices as they ran for their cars. Finally, another sound drew his attention, its repetitive nature forcing him to concentrate to make sense of it.

“Ow, ow, ow, ow,” Blair said with each of Jim’s footfalls. The Sentinel’s shoulder was pressed against the Guide’s sore ribs. Finally, Ellison stopped and carefully lowered his lover to the ground.

“Jim?” Blair asked, squinting up at the slightly muddy, square jaw.

“I’ve got you,” Jim said.

“So cold,” Blair managed through chattering teeth.

Looking up and seeing rescue workers coming down the hill, Jim pulled Blair closer and wrapped his arms around the smaller, shivering body. Burying his nose in his Guide’s neck, the Sentinel inhaled deeply, cataloguing Sandburg’s state of health with his senses.

The paramedics quickly transferred Blair to a Stokes basket and broke several chemical heat packs to tuck in around him. Blair was shaking so hard that they couldn’t start the IV and the medic in charge called for the patient to be airlifted to the hospital. Hearing that, Blair began to struggle, tossing his head from side to side and calling for Jim.

“Can I ride with him?” the Sentinel asked.

“I’m sorry, there just isn’t room,” the man answered.

“Don’t … don’t … fly … don’t … please,” Blair managed.

“You need to go to the hospital, Chief,” Jim replied, kneeling down beside the basket and leaning closer to his panicked lover.

“No … n-n-no … fly … please.”

Jim could smell the fear sheeting off of Blair, hear his heart racing. “Is there any reason he can’t go by ambulance?” he asked the paramedic. The man appeared to consider the situation before he shrugged his shoulders. “Then cancel the chopper and let’s get him up the hill,” Jim suggested. He looked down to see the relaxed smile on Blair’s face and reached down to pull the blanket up closer to his chin.

“I think this belongs to your friend,” a voice said. Jim turned to see a man holding Blair’s bag out to him.

“Thanks, for everything,” Ellison said, shaking the man’s hand after he took the bag and slung it over his shoulder.

In the ambulance, the paramedic nudged Jim out of the way and began to swab Blair’s throat. When he inserted the IV catheter into the dark vein, Jim winced. The IV solution was warmed, as was the oxygen being fed into the mask on Blair’s face. The paramedic broke several more chemical heat packs and tucked them in around his patient.

“He’s shivering, that’s good,” the man said.

“He hates to be cold,” Jim replied. He let his chin hang down toward his chest and noticed the thick layer of mud that coated his feet and legs to his knees. His hands and forearms were covered in mud and dotted with scrapes from his frantic entry into Blair’s car.

“He’s afraid to fly?” the medic asked.

“He’s been airlifted before.” Jim slid his hand beneath the blanket and curled his fingers around Blair’s sock-covered hand. It was warm and he realized that there was one of the heat packs below their joined hands. The restless night and the long, stressful day caught up with him and Jim leaned back, letting his eyes close. Almost immediately, he was transported to the blue jungle where the panther stood guard over the wolf.

“Detective Ellison? Your phone was ringing,” the paramedic said offering the mud-splattered instrument to him with a smile.

“Hmm?” Jim grunted.

“How’s Hairboy?” Henry asked a little too loudly.

“He’s sleeping,” Jim mumbled.

“We’ll be waiting at the hospital for you.”

“Okay, thanks,” Jim said before disconnecting the call and lowering the phone to the bench.

“We’re still about ten minutes out. Go ahead and try to rest.”

Jim’s body needed no urging and his eyes closed again. Blair’s fingers had tightened around his and the Sentinel knew that his Guide would be alright. Too soon, the man was coaxing Jim awake again as the ambulance doors opened.

In the waiting room, Jim began to pace again. Blair wasn’t conscious, so there was no need for him to be in the examining room with him. Rafe had detoured to the station to pick up the change of clothes that Ellison kept there for emergencies and Jim had been allowed to shower in the doctor’s lounge. Simon and the others were still regaling each other with their run from the second slide. Connor had turned her ankle and was in another exam room having it checked.

Warm, blessedly warm, Blair hardly stirred as he was transferred to the hospital bed. He began to stir, however, when the nurses began to remove his shoes and socks. When they cut away his muddy jeans, he tried to curl up. By the time they started on the layers of shirts, Blair protested, loudly.

A sudden smile blossomed on Ellison’s face and Simon detoured away from the vending machine to ask, “Can you hear what’s happening back there?”

“He doesn’t want them to cut his shirts off,” Jim whispered. He sank back into his seat, finally able to relax now that he knew his lover would be alright.

It was nearly midnight before the doctor came out to ask for Blair’s friends. To his credit, the doctor didn’t step back when the intimidating group of men approached. He explained that Blair had a mild concussion and some cracked ribs. Jim winced, remembering how he’d carried his young friend away from the car. The doctor assured them that the hypothermia was being aggressively handled and that Blair’s core temperature was almost normal. A nurse would inform them when Blair was in a room so they could see him.

Blair was not normally shy about his body but when the young nurse came in to wash the mud off of him before taking him up to his room, Sandburg blushed to his roots.

“Can’t I just take a shower? I feel fine,” he protested.

“The doctor wants to keep you on the warming blanket for a while longer,” she replied.

“Why can’t I do it myself?” Blair asked.

“Because that’s what they pay me to do.”

In the end, Blair had no choice but to allow the attractive brunette to give him a sponge bath. When she was finished, she helped him into a hospital gown and changed the dirty sheets. Blair was shaking again by the time she was done with him and he was grateful for the warming blanket she tucked under his chin. The doctor removed the IV and repositioned it in his arm after his bath.

When Blair was moved to a private room, Jim and the rest of Major Crimes crowded into an elevator to go see him. Connor was in a wheelchair, her ankle bound in an Ace Bandage. Jim moved into the room first, immediately going to the bed and brushing the palm of his hand over Blair’s forehead. He was rewarded with a pair of sleepy blue eyes.

“Hey Chief, how are you feeling?” Jim asked, his affection for the younger man obvious.

“I’m so hungry I would even eat a Wonder Burger,” Blair replied drowsily.

“I think I can arrange that,” Jim said with a smile.

“Hey Jim? Do you think they’ll ever recover my car?” Blair asked. “It’s a classic.”

“Not any more it isn’t.”

A frown crossed Blair’s face right before a massive yawn. “Okay, if you say so,” he murmured before going back to sleep. Jim pulled the blankets up and tucked them in around his lover.

“You and your classic cars,” Jim said.

The others took turns at the other side of the bed, just looking down on Blair as he slept. While the other men were too ‘macho’ to touch the young anthropologist, none of them commented on the fact that Jim slid his hand under the blankets to grip Blair’s fingers. Ten minutes later, a nurse stopped at the door and asked them to leave. Simon and H. hung back to speak to Jim while the others took Connor out in the wheelchair.

“I don’t suppose I could convince you to go home and rest?” Simon asked.

“I need to be here,” Jim replied without looking at the captain.

“I’ll tell the nurse you’re staying,” H. said as he left the room.

Alone with Simon, Jim dragged his gaze away from his Guide. “It was close, you know,” he said. “He was running out of air.”

“Try to get some rest, Jim. You’re almost asleep on your feet.”

“I will, Simon.”

“I’ll call and check on both of you in the morning,” Banks said as he left.

Jim tried to make himself comfortable in the hard plastic chair beside the bed. Simon was right, he was almost asleep on his feet but he would not be separated from Blair, not yet. Several minutes later, an orderly arrived, pushing a reclining chair like the ones they had on the maternity floor. The young man was quick and efficient as he rearranged the room, pushing Blair’s bed closer to the wall and rolling the chair into position. A pillow and two blankets were folded neatly on the seat.

“Thanks,” Jim said sincerely as the orderly took the plastic chair and prepared to leave the room.

“Nurse’s orders, she said that you needed to rest, too.”

Jim nodded, making a mental note to send the woman a large bouquet of flowers as soon as he’d gotten some sleep. The recliner was high enough that he could still reach Blair’s arm and soon Sentinel and Guide were both soundly asleep. Jim’s hearing automatically sought the familiar heart beat and used it like a lullaby to relax him.

Some time later, Jim was roused from sleep by the sudden increase in Blair’s breathing and heart rate. Rolling out of the recliner, Jim padded around to the other side of the bed and lowered the rail. He sat on the edge of the bed and reached out to calm the thrashing body.

“Easy, Chief, it’s all over, you’re safe,” he said softly.

Coming partly awake in the darkened room, Blair was confused. He was trapped between the dream and reality, not too certain of either. He struggled to sit up, clutching at his lover. “Oh no! Jim, now you’re trapped here too!” he gasped.

“You’re not in the car anymore, Sandburg. You’re in the hospital.”

Blair’s eyes darted fearfully around the room for a moment before coming back to Jim’s. He began to shake and Ellison pulled him close, wrapping his arms around the trembling body. The Sentinel smelled the salty tears that soaked into his shirt and he began to rub his Guide’s back, needing the skin on skin contact. Both of Blair’s hands came up to cling to Jim. He tried to control his runaway emotions but couldn’t stop shaking or crying.

The nurse opened the door and studied the two men. She had calculated how long it would take for her patient to start dreaming, knowing that he would have nightmares. The handsome, flirty detective who had stopped at the desk told her all about the young man being trapped beneath the mud slide and the frantic rescue efforts. Seeing that the older man was offering the best kind of comfort to the frightened younger man, she smiled and left the room.

When Blair was finally able to stop crying, he pulled away from Jim’s embrace. He stared into the darker blue eyes as his lover leaned closer. Their lips met and Blair hungrily attacked the tongue that was thrust into his mouth. Jim’s hand crept up and clenched in his hair, holding him as he plundered the warm, wet depths. When his lover’s arm tightened around him, Blair moaned softly from the pain in his ribs. Jim immediately gentled his grip and went back to stroking the bare expanse of skin revealed in the opening of the hospital gown. Finally, Blair was able to relax and nuzzled against Jim’s neck and shoulder.

“You think you can go back to sleep now?” Jim asked gently.

“Yeah,” Blair replied, reluctant to shift away from his lover.

“It’s okay, you had a rough day, Chief,” Jim murmured as his lips brushed against Blair’s forehead. He inhaled deeply, absorbing the comforting scent.

Looking into Jim’s eyes, Blair saw only love and concern.

“Let’s get you straightened out here, then,” Jim said, sliding off of the bed and tugging the blankets out of the tangled jumble they had gotten into during Blair’s frantic tossing and turning.

“You should go home and rest. I’ll be alright,” Blair said. He knew how miserable the hospital smells made Jim and the bedside chairs were torture on his back.

“I’m going to sleep again, just as soon as I get you tucked in.” He pointed to the recliner, “That thing is surprisingly comfortable.”

Two hours later, the nurse peeked into the room again. Her young patient was buried to the ears in the nest of blankets they had put on him earlier. His friend was also asleep, turned on his side to face the younger man. She smiled and slipped away without waking either of them.

In the morning, Jim awoke as the first of the breakfast carts were rolled out of the elevator. He got up, folding the blankets and stacking them with the pillow back in the chair before making use of the bathroom. Coming back into the room, he moved up alongside of the bed and extended his senses to check on Blair. Under the cloying scent of the soap they used when they washed the mud off of him was the normal, reassuring smell of general health. His Guide’s breathing and heartbeat were the even and steady rhythm of sleep. Reaching out, he carefully brushed his palm against the nape of Blair’s neck to check his temperature. He smiled at how very warm the younger man was.

“I’m okay, Jim,” Blair said softly. He waited until the Sentinel withdrew his hand before rolling onto his back and stretching languorously beneath the blankets. “But I really need to use the bathroom. Can you help me with this?” he asked, indicating the IV pole. Jim helped him, rolling the pole and offering his arm to steady Blair as he stood up for the first time. “Whoa! Head rush,” Blair said as he swayed dizzily, grateful for the strong arm that slipped around him. Jim’s hand brushed over his bare behind and Blair groaned at the tingle of arousal.

Jim grinned at the sharp spike of endorphins coming off of his lover. He deliberately gave the muscular bottom a squeeze before letting go and easing the bathroom door closed to give Blair some privacy. When he came out a few minutes later, it was obvious to the Sentinel that his Guide had taken care of his problem by hand. Blair gave him a dirty look as he pushed the IV pole back across the room.

Several hours later, the doctor checked Blair and pronounced him well enough to discharge. He still had a mild headache and was moving slowly because of the sore ribs but he was doing well. Jim asked Simon to stop by the loft and pick up some clean clothes since Blair’s muddy pants had been cut off in the emergency room. When the captain arrived, he handed off the clothes and informed Blair that his mother had left several messages on the machine at home, each sounding a little more panicked than the last. She said that she had a dream on the plane that Blair was hurt and she was worried.

“I’ll call her as soon as we get home. Thanks Simon, for everything,” Blair said as he tucked his shirt into his jeans. Jim had told him how the captain had kept the Sentinel grounded during the rescue.

On the drive to the loft, Blair was sitting in the back seat. His eyes kept darting around and he had a death grip on the edge of the seat. Simon was oblivious to the situation, talking about the news coverage of the second slide. Jim draped his arm over the front seat and gave Blair’s thigh a firm squeeze, he could smell the fear rolling off of his lover. As soon as the car came to a stop, Blair leapt out and began to pace along the sidewalk. He was taking deep breaths and talking softly to himself.

“Is he going to be alright?” Simon asked.

“Yeah, I think so. I’ll have a talk with him.”

But he wasn’t alright. For the next few days, Blair had a panic attack almost every time he got into a vehicle. It wasn’t too bad as long as it was just a short drive but anything over a few minutes had him hyperventilating. He also refused to allow Jim to make love to him, something that bothered the Sentinel because he needed to connect with his guide and mate on a visceral level. But Jim tried to be patient, thinking that Blair would be alright once he put the incident behind him.

The loft was dark and quiet but something woke the Sentinel. Lying absolutely still, Jim listened for the noise that had brought him from a deep sleep. It took him only a few seconds to recognize the familiar sound of Blair having a nightmare. His lover had fallen asleep on the couch and Jim hadn’t wanted to wake him because he’d had so little uninterrupted sleep since coming home from the hospital. Tossing back the blankets, he pulled on his bathrobe and padded down the steps. His lover was lying on the couch with his head nearest the end table with the lamp. Blair was on his side with his knees drawn up almost to his ribs. In spite of the warmth in the room, he was shaking. His eyes darted frantically behind closed lids and his head tossed against the pillow. A few seconds later, he flung himself onto his back, holding up his hands as if warding something off. Jim reached out and placed his hand firmly on Blair’s forearm.

“Wake up, Chief,” he said softly. “You’re dreaming.”

Blair continued to toss his head from side to side and Jim realized that he was holding his breath.

“Sandburg! Wake up!” Jim said, reaching with both hands for Blair’s shoulders.

“NO!” Blair gasped as he came awake suddenly. He thrashed for a moment before he realized that he was safe. Shuddering, he clung to his lover. “I’m sorry I woke you, man.”

“You want to talk about it?” Jim asked.

“It was … just a nightmare. I’ll be alright. You … you go on back to bed.”

“Come upstairs with me,” Jim urged, “let me hold you.”

“I’ll just keep you awake with my tossing and turning. Go on up to bed, you have to go to work in a few hours.”

Reluctantly, Jim returned to his room and lay down. He could tell by his heart rate and breathing that his lover wasn’t sleeping. Some time later, Ellison managed to go back to sleep but it was nearly morning before Blair succumbed to exhaustion.

A soft conversation in the other room brought Blair out of a light doze.

“I know, Simon, but he’s not sleeping. I’m going to take the day off and see if I can get him to talk to me about it,” Jim hissed into the phone. “I will. I will. Thanks. Bye, Simon.”

After a light breakfast, Jim insisted that Blair take a walk with him. He had seen something on his way home the day before and hoped that it might be the key to helping his lover. Blair was a little more animated out in the open and soon the two men were having a lively discussion. Jim had mentioned some tidbit he had read on the internet and instantly ‘Professor’ Sandburg was explaining to him just exactly what was wrong with what he’d read. They came around the corner and began to walk along a small used car lot. Blair’s words trailed off and his steps slowed until he came to a complete stop.

“See something you like?” Jim asked.

The Volkswagon Beetle had a convertible top and leather interior. It was obvious that someone had taken excellent care of the car as it didn’t have a speck of rust on it. The recent wax job made it fairly glitter in the sun. Blair took a hesitant step toward the car, then stopped and turned back to Jim.

“Naomi had one of those,” Blair said.

“I know, you told me.”

“I always wanted one but the body was always shot.”

“That one looks pretty good,” Jim suggested.

“I can’t afford to take on a car payment, though,” Blair said almost in a whining tone.

“You have to replace the Volvo.”

“But …” Blair paused, turning to look at the car again.

“I made arrangements to have the Volvo towed back. Someone from the shop offered to buy it for parts. He’s refinishing one the same year as yours and he offered good money for it. You also have the money from the insurance.”

“Are you serious?” Blair questioned. He was worried about taking on payments.

“You’ve got your consulting salary from the department; that should cover the payments. Why don’t we go talk to the salesman?”

Less than an hour later, Jim and Blair pulled off of the lot in the little, cream-colored Beetle. The car had been in a garage for several years after the elderly man who owned it wasn’t able to drive it. When he died, his children decided to sell the car rather than argue over which of them would get to keep it. After a complete tune up and new tires, the car was a truly sweet ride.

The open air of the convertible didn’t make Blair feel trapped and he was able to drive all the way to the station to show off his newest acquisition. Simon chortled about the car, saying how perfect it was for Blair’s ‘hippy persona.’ H. and Rafe were more interested in the engine and Connor wanted to go for a ride.

It worked. Driving around in the new car, Blair felt more at ease than he had in a while. When the clouds rolled in, he pulled over and put the top up. They drove around for a while before returning to the loft.

That evening, Blair opened the doors to his room and brought out some of his lesson plans to work on. Jim had made Teriyaki Chicken for supper for them and was pleased to see his roommate taking more of an interest in eating. After Blair finished with his planner, they turned on the TV and watched a game on ESPN. After the news, Jim got up and got ready for bed, curious as to whether or not Blair would make it to bed. The Sentinel fell asleep to the steady tapping of his Guide’s fingers on the keyboard of his laptop computer.

A couple of hours later, Jim awakened to Blair slipping into bed beside him. The Sentinel gave his Guide a few minutes to get settled, then he rolled over and wrapped an arm around him. Nuzzling against the hair at the nape of his lover’s neck, Jim waited to see if Blair would pull away. He heard the sudden increase in Blair’s heart rate but it gradually settled into a normal, soothing rhythm as the younger man drifted off to sleep.

It had taken all of his courage to make himself climb the stairs to the darkness of the loft bedroom but Blair knew that he couldn’t avoid his lover forever. Since being trapped in the car, in the dark, he imagined that the darkness was closing in on him almost every time he closed his eyes. He undressed silently and tried to ease into bed without disturbing Jim. Just as he thought he’d succeeded, the older man rolled over and wrapped an arm around him, drawing him into the warm bow of his body. The Sentinel ‘scented’ him by nuzzling at the nape of his neck before settling into a deeper sleep. Blair’s heart raced and he tamped down the urge to struggle. His logical, educated mind knew that he wasn’t trapped and that the walls weren’t moving in on him. He practiced slowing his breathing and meditated silently for a few minutes. Something tickled in his nose and he relaxed further as he recognized the odor as being uniquely ‘Jim.’ Safe in his Sentinel’s embrace, he drifted off to sleep.

In the morning, Jim awakened alone, rolled over and glanced down into the living room. He smiled at seeing Blair on the couch, surrounded by stacks of books and papers. He hadn’t been able to stand being in his former room long enough to gather the things he needed for any reading or research. It was a beginning.


End file.
